Astoria Greengrass and the Emerald Tie Alliance
by The Anti Hipster
Summary: Astoria only has two rules; shut up, don't care. But when she stumbles upon Draco Malfoy living in destitute, not to mention this new obnoxious DADA professor challenging her at every turn, her self-preservation tactics may start to lose their ground...
1. The Poorly Concealed Woe of the Dish Pig

**Disclaimer: Everything Belongs to J.K Rowling. Not me, now or ever. **

Why hello! This story is basically how I imagine how life would be for Slytherins after the Second War. I myself am a proud (non-evil) Slytherin, so please excuse my _slight _bias. Some things will start off unexplained (though hopefully not too annoyingly so), but I do have this story mapped out, and I promise it will not stay that way. Things will start to tie together, promise. All the characters are either completely cannon, or mentioned in Jo's class list,mainly because I want to keep this as absolutely close to cannon as possible. Of course, there is a fair amount of romance thrown in, because how can I resist?:) I sincerely hope you enjoy, and would love nothing more than a review!

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><p>Chapter One: The Poorly Concealed Woe of the Dish Pig<p>

To most students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Saturday was a happy, welcome relief. Astoria Greengrass, however, was not most students. In fact, on that Saturday morning, whether an annoyingly chipper sunny day or a dismal grey the brunette did not know as the Slytherin dormitories didn't hold such trivial things such as _windows_, the girl lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the stone ceiling above her. The weekends were, in Astoria's opinion, the longest, most drawn out two days of the week. There were no classes to make the day pass faster, and as there was plenty of time for homework, it was easily completed early on, and gave no distraction to the vast boredom and, quite frankly, miserableness, Astoria harbored on a daily basis.

The girl kicked the silky emerald duvet off of her body, but still did not move from her spot. Her schedule was the same that day as it was every Saturday. Wake up, eat breakfast, try (and fail) to go back to sleep, finish what measly amounts of homework she had left, eat lunch, try and sleep more, and, what she supposed could be seen as the pathetic climax of her day, take one of her usual trips down to the Hog's Head. This did not particularly thrill Astoria, to say the least. In fact, she rather dreaded these little excursions and had half a mind to just this once skip out of the little adventure.

Sighing to herself, the girl sat up. She knew herself well enough to know she would, at five o'clock on the dot, be heading down the secret passageway to Hogsmeade, whether she liked it or not. She turned her head to the ornate, sterling silver floor-length mirror that had occupied her dormitory for as long as she could remember, and stared flatly at her reflection. The same pale face, small, slightly upturned nose and amber eyes stared back at her, her dark wavy hair, as usual, a bit too much on the wild side to be what one would really classify as _pretty. _All in all, she was no Daphne.

"_You'll never get anywhere with that attitude_." The mirror chided, as if reading her mind. Astoria rolled her eyes. Bloody mirror.

She let her eyes float lazily around the circular room for a moment, taking in the empty beds surrounding her on either side. She was currently the only female seventh year Slytherin. At the beginning of the year especially, the girl had considered this a relief. She was never particularly fond of the girls in her year and as most of their families had gone into hiding from the Aurors when the war ended, and the others never really planned on staying for their seventh year anyway, she now didn't have to deal with their constant bitching.

And yes, in all actuality, Astoria would admit that this was a _bit_ depressing. Sure, the girls were a nuisance and their plots and conspiracies against other students, and one another at times, did start to bore Astoria after awhile, but they were, after all, her housemates. And sure, things were more peaceful and less agitating, but it was also quiet, eerily so, even.

Except for hers, smack dab in the middle of the room, the metallic four-poster beds, made of the same sterling silver, and with the same intertwining snakes and roses as the mirror in the corner of the room, all arranged in a semi-circle around, were empty, and the crisp emerald walls free of posters and photographs. The green silk bedding remained untouched, and the checkered black and white marble floor clear of the usual heels and lacey undergarments that once littered its surface, for once showing clearly the Snake's Circle in it's center.

Astoria let her eyes rest on the snake. Really, it was the most magnificent feature of the room, more so, even than the mirror, which her roommates had much preferred. A black marble border surrounded a tiny pond, made with different colored stones and gems, in it a loosely coiled black snake with large eyes made of emeralds, and a small, forked ruby tongue. It was fond of swimming in small circles, something Astoria had learned in her first year would make you quite nauseous if you watched for too long. They had named it once, but Astoria had long since forgotten what exactly that name had been.

"It's just me and you, bud," she told the snake flatly. It gave an unenthusiastic wiggle, and then settled back into position, sleeping soundly and letting the water wash over it. "I appreciate your effort," Astoria muttered, shaking her head. She shoved a thick section of matted hair behind her ear and finally stood up. She threw on a pair of dirty, crumpled jeans, ignoring the stain the leg that she couldn't quite identify, and a thick, grey cashmere sweater that was a bit tight in the stomach and definitely around her already full hips, making the girl decide it had likely once have belonged to her perfectly trim sister.

"_You can't be leaving like that!" _the mirror screeched as her hand met with the silver doorknob.

"Sorry," Astoria replied, catching her own eye in the mirror, "it's not getting any better than this." And in the girl's opinion, nothing truer had come out of her mouth.

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><p>Like many of the Hog's Head's occupants preferred, Astoria kept the hood of her cloak pulled over her face, her lips, painted as deep a crimson as her hood, being her only visible feature. She shifted, almost uneasily, on her stool. Patience was never her strongest virtue.<p>

These trips were the only time she played up the dramatic flare she knew, being a Greengrass, she must have, but she didn't really enjoy it as much she had at first expected herself to. The red on her lips was thick and dry, making it feel as if they had been lightly glazed with cement. And the hood she used to cover her face- well, it covered her face. She couldn't bloody see out of it. The first few times, she remembered with a cringe, she'd stumbled everywhere and almost tripped over a hag. She had been certainly glad to hear it when that hag, who never quite forgave her, had moved to Norway.

Astoria's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. He was late. She only had one customer scheduled for that night, and yet she would still probably be falling asleep on her stool before it was finally time for her to leave. The box in her lap seemed to grow heavier and heavier until finally, against her better judgment, the brunette heaved the box to the counter, and stretched her legs with relief, wincing slightly as her knees cracked beneath her. She could hardly say how long she'd really been waiting, except that it'd felt like a lifetime.

"Again?" asked the barista, one eyebrow raised. Astoria scowled slightly, but didn't reply. She couldn't tell if the lady was questioning that she was here, yet again, or if she was ordering another round of a strong alcoholic beverage, yet again. The barista, whose name the brunette had never taken the time to learn, shook her head and walked away, returning a few moments with her usual glass of Firewhisky. To be honest, the girl couldn't quite say what glass this was. But then again, it had been a while since she'd bother trying to keep track.

"Hogwarts must have really relaxed since I left," the barista sniffed, and flounced, as well as a woman of her seize could, back to the other side of the bar. Astoria rolled her eyes. So, technically, she wasn't allowed to be there, but let's be honest. With all the repairs and Harry Freaking Potter popping in every ten minutes, no one would notice if one stupid Slytherin went missing for an hour. Or three.

Astoria picked up her glass, ignoring it's obviously smudged exterior and took a sip, relishing the deep burn that traveled from her throat down to her stomach. Since its importance in the Battle of Hogwarts, the Hog's Head, thankfully, had sunk back into its usual obscurity. Though the passageway from the Room of Requirement hadn't been used in years, Hogwarts seemed to have an odd way of aiding anyone wishing to break the rules set for them. All of the secret passageways, now known and patrolled by all teachers, were for the time being near impossible to use. However, once the Restoration had started, Hogwarts itself had joined in with the volunteers who spent all day on that task alone, by beginning to fix small bits of itself even parts, Astoria had quickly learned, that had been damaged long before the Battle had ever taken place.

"Hey! _Hey!_" With slight annoyance, Astoria glanced up, expecting it to be her that the surly, middle-aged woman was calling to, but with admittedly a bit of surprise, Astoria found the woman completely turned away from her, the barista's meaty arms resting on her wide hips. "Liston filth," she spat, her tone laced with spiky venom, "I know what you've been up to- sneaking off and what not! If you think I won't do anything about it-"

A faint murmur could be heard from the corner of the pub, but the barista was blocking any view Astoria may have had. The girl craned her neck to see past the woman, but it was in complete vain.

"Fell asleep? _Fell asleep_?" The woman screeched. Astoria glanced around the room to see if anyone else was taking note of the spectacle. The only other customers she could see, two older men in ill-fitting robes that seemed almost to swallow them, had indeed noticed, and were smirking across the room, with odd looks mixing appreciation and triumph. "Whataya think this is? A bloody nursery?" She continued, ending with a crackling laugh that made Astoria's toes curl.

This time Astoria could make out a small, decidedly male, voice say, "- won't happen again, I-"

"Damn right it won't," the woman sneered. She grabbed a rag soaking in a nearby bucket and tossed it to the corner as she walked around the bar and towards the door disappearing to the back of the pub. "Now be a dear and for once, _do your bloody job!_" With that the woman slammed the door shut behind her, sending dust and small insects falling from the ceiling above. For the first time, Astoria got a good look at the boy standing in the corner of the room, the soaking, brown rag hanging limp in his pale hands. The brunette felt her dark eyes widen and she quickly shifted her gaze down to the floor. A few seconds later, her heart having sped up a considerable bit, Astoria snuck another glance, sure her eyes had been playing tricks on her, but still the boy stood, taking a deep breaths, as if trying to steady himself before starting to wipe down the nearest table.

This time it was much harder for the girl to tear her eyes away, because now there was no questioning that it was Draco Malfoy who stood before her, much thinner than she ever remembered, his gaunt face completely blank, forcefully void of any emotion.

Astoria raked her thumb over her fingers, an anxious habit she'd had for as long as she could remember, and twisted her body around so she no longer faced the youngest Malfoy. She quickly drained the rest of her Firewhisky, feeling her head rush slightly as she did so. Keeping her eyes down and hood up as always, Astoria pushed herself off of her stool, wobbling more than she chose to admit, and headed for the door. The brunette had her hand outstretched, ready to rush out of the pub as quick as her shaky legs could take her, when a slightly wheezy voice caused her to stop in her tracks.

"Regret it all now, don't you boy?" One of the men grinned, revealing rows of discolored, uneven teeth. Draco ignored him and continued working, his arms circling the table over and over, but an undeniable pink tinge now plagued his cheeks.

The brunette felt what was sure to be alcohol induced anger coarse through her as the man continued, "S'bout time a young sleaze like yourself learned-"

"I think," the brunette said, taking a surprisingly steady step forward, "that's enough." She pushed her hood off of her head, revealing her pale face and vivid amber eyes, shinning bright with her liquid anger. Astoria, however, was not phased by her new found since of bravery, sure it was a result of the Firewhisky, as it's warmth still lingered in her stomach and surely on her breath. She met the man's gaze, if only to keep her own away from Draco. The man coughed out a laugh, but kept steadily kept eye contact. "Come on now, miss. No harm in showing the grime where it-"

"I said, that's enough," Astoria repeated, raising her voice just slightly louder. A part of the girl's mind was shrieking for her to stop, this way not her place, don't get yourself noticed, stay unseen, don't get involved in anything, but it was too late to back down now. She raised her chin slightly and the man's laugh slowed to a stop, and an almost hostile frown formed. "You know who this is?" he demanded, jabbing his thumb towards Draco. "Who this _coward _is? Him and the rest of his pathetic family, in with You-Know-Who right until the last possible-"

Draco had turned away. Again, Astoria noticed his shoulders rise and fall slowly, deliberately. He was keeping himself in check. Self-perseveration.

"Stop!" The brunette almost jumped at the sound of her own voice and the authority it rang with. Firewhisky, of course, the girl thought quickly, but did not fight it. The man's lips curled behind his teeth. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly stopped and shrank back. Astoria momentarily wondered if it was somehow her that had made the man react so, but, feeling dread wash through her, the girl felt a warm hand clasp her shoulder. Astoria did jump now, expecting a professor or perhaps even the barista, but instead came face-to-face with a young blonde man, much healthier-looking than Draco, who had quickly scattered off to clean another table, with warm brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a rather square jaw. "You two have been here for about three drinks longer than usual," he said, his voice firm, but not cold. "Don't you think it may be time for you both to head out?" The two men at the table met eyes, then shifted back to the man behind Astoria, his hand still on her shoulder, obviously sizing him up, and then, grumbling, and shooting a nasty glare at Draco, the two slunk out of the pub and out of sight.

Astoria turned to the man behind her, opened her mouth to say something, though not quite sure what, but he had already pushed through the door, letting it swing to a shut behind him before the brunette could get a word out. Finally, she let her eyes wander to where the first blonde stood, watching her. The rag had been deposited back into the bucket. His hands seemed oddly empty without it. The two continued to stare at each other, obviously unsure of what to say. Or better yet, if there was anything to be said at all.

Finally, Astoria forced herself to turn around, and without a glance back, pushed the door with her full body weight and stumbled out of the pub.

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><p>For the second time that day, Astoria felt the same warm hand grab ahold of her. The brunette steadied herself and then let her eyes slide to the man's face. His brown eyes flicked with a set of emotions she was used to receiving, a stern contempt, and yet mild curiosity. He looked vaguely familiar and must, the girl realized, be one of the wizards volunteering on the Restoration.<p>

Astoria wiggled out of his grasp and stared almost defiantly into his round eyes. "I can stand, thanks," she told him coolly, smoothing her cloak down over her hips. I can handle my own alcohol too, she wanted to add, but refrained herself from doing so. She knew it must have been what was on the man's mind, from the flickers of concern that betrayed themselves to Astoria's eyes.

"Sasha," the honey-blonde said, extending a rough, bronze hand. Astoria blinked and stared down at it for a fraction of a second, before hesitantly accepting the gesture, and shaking the man's callused hands. She didn't, however, offer up her name. She didn't need to. The emerald-striped tie now poking just barely out at her neck she'd noticed him eyeing no doubt told him everything he needed to know. "If I'm correct," he started, offering a small smile, "I believe you're due at the castle as well."

Not liking the amusement that rimmed his eyes, Astoria nearly shrugged. "I suppose," she replied, her eyes scanning over the man, judging, critical. However, the girl's ice-cold gaze only made Sasha's smile stretch at the corner, causing more than one twinge of annoyance.

He was young, Astoria realized, in his late twenties most likely, well built, with eyes that practically shown with eagerness, all in all, the exact type that had been coming in and out of Hogwarts castle lately. As if only to press her further, he offered out his arm, elbow bended, clearly expecting her to take it. "Again," she told him, upper lip curling, "I can-"

"Apparition," he cut in quickly, his tone still friendly, "has been lifted in the Great Hall for another," he glanced at the silver watch dangling off of his wrist, "thirteen minutes. Walking, of course, is completely permissible, however-" If only to make him shut up, Astoria grasped ahold of his arm. "Right then," he smiled, and just like that, they were gone.

"Ah, yes, we've been expecting you-" Professor McGonagall stopped. Her eyes lowered to the girl standing next to the blonde, her lips growing thinner with each passing second.

Firewhisky and apparition, the girl noted, were a bad combination. She should refrain from mixing the two in the future. Suddenly, Astoria realized her arm was still looped in between Sasha's, and most of her weight was on him as well, as she was leaning into his side. She forced herself to stand up straight and yanked herself away with a scowl, folding both arms defensively over her chest. "Picked up a straggler," Sasha grinned, nodding his head toward Astoria, who resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. This day was not at all going how she'd planned. It was even worse.

"I can see as much," McGonagall replied in the usual cool, offhand tone she used when dealing with any members of the Slytherin house. Astoria only stared up at her, saying nothing. Opening her mouth, she knew, would be suicide. "You should note, Miss Greengrass, the next time a Professor catches you off of school grounds, you will in fact be-"

"Wait," Astoria said, breaking her own personal method of survival, shut up and don't care. Her eyes moved from McGonagall to Sasha. "_Professor?_"

Once again, Sasha stuck his hand out. "Professor Vaisey, Defense Against the Dark Arts."

There were so many things wrong with that statement. First of all, Sasha- Professor Vaisey- _whatever _she was supposed to call him, was obviously too young to be teaching. Astoria was certain she'd never had a professor younger than late-forties, and that was pushing it. Second, Defense Against the Dark Arts was awkward for her anyway. The last thing she wanted to do was add this obnoxious, over-eager professor to the mix.

Besides, they already had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! Old Professor… Uh, well, whatever his name was, who- who Oh wait. Dragon Pox.

"I think it's well past time for you to be on your way to you dormitory, Miss Greengrass," McGonagall sniffed, casting the brunette another disapproving scan of her eyes.

It was eight o'clock, at the absolute latest, but Astoria didn't argue. Where else did she have to go, anyway? Without saying a word, Astoria turned on her heel and strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring the few volunteers who stared after her as she did so. The Great Hall was their meeting spot, and this week's task, she'd noticed, was the Astronomy Tower. Well. She could think of one or two Ravenclaw whores who would be happy to hear about that.

"Wait- Astoria!"

The brunette slowed her pace but didn't stop walking. She glanced over her shoulder and saw, as she suspected, the new blonde professor. He slowed beside her and stopped. After a second, Astoria did the same. They stared at each other for a long while before the brunette finally said, "Don't you think your perfect super-hero jaw and alluring facial hair will get in the way of your career? They're probably quite a distraction." Making fun of someone for good looks was so fourth-year boy, but it was the only thing Astoria had been able to think to say. What she _really _wanted to know was how he knew her name- ah wait. McGonagall. No doubt she'd been warning him to watch his back, after all, he'd been _alone_ with a _Slytherin. _Oh, such horror.

The professor blinked, and then, slowly, a smile tugged at his full lips and he replied, "Well, I'm getting up there in years, you know. These positively _debonair_ features will be concealed by wrinkles and liver spots in no time."

"Ah," Astoria replied, lacking the proper witty response necessary. What could she say? Wit beyond measure was someone else's greatest treasure.

There was another long, awkward pause between them before Astoria icily asked, "Was there something you wanted?" Her eyes flicked to the other side of the hallway where Susan Bones and Hermione Granger were walking with one another, arms linked, heads tipped back in laughter. Astoria forced her lip not to curl. Oh yes, their lives must be simply _wonderful _now, what with the entire Wizarding World now basking in their glowing, martyr glory. Not that she had anything wrong with the two personally; she couldn't care less about either of them, especially not enough to hate them, but God. She couldn't help find them so effing _annoying. _Yes, yes, life is now simply sublime and after spending a year rebuilding your perfect little families you're back at good 'ole Hogwarts! Here to take education by storm for one last glorious, sunny, laughter-filled year! It made Astoria want to hurl.

Professor Vaisey, Astoria finally noticed, had been watching her glare down the two witches. The brunette felt her face heat. She couldn't be seen throwing dirty looks to Hermione Granger of all people, and she hadn't meant to really, it was just hard _not _to hate her. She had no idea how lucky she was. "Must be nice to be perfect," Astoria said, in a semi-desperate attempt to backtrack. Was it how she really felt about the two? Nope. But was it what any Hogwarts professor would want to hear after such a spectacle? Yep! For the first time that day, Vaisey's grin slipped, just enough to be noticed. Astoria, once again, applied self-preservation rule number two; don't care. This in mind, she didn't wonder why.

"I'm looking forward to having you I class."

Astoria glanced up at him, taken aback. His eyes didn't seem mocking and he didn't look uncomfortable, meaning he wasn't saying what he had out of obligation, which was the only reason why Astoria could imagine he would have felt the need to say such a thing. Not being able to think of any other reply, the brunette managed a single, "_Why?_'"

Maybe it had come out a bit more forceful than she'd meant to, because now it was his turn to look a bit abashed. But before he could answer, McGonagall was back, speaking in a rushed tone to Vaisey. She caught sight of Astoria staring at the two and said, her voice particularly stern, "Your dormitory, Miss Greengrass!" Silent as usual, Astoria gave no sign of acknowledgement that she'd heard the professor, but continued down the hallway anyways. It wasn't until she was about to turn the corner did the girl find herself glancing back, only to discover Vaisey watching her, almost intently. Astoria thought she might have seen him smile, but she'd rounded her way to the next hallway before she could be sure.

She shook her head and walked down the steps to the dungeons. Stupid, new-age professor trying to get on Slytherin House's good side so he doesn't end up dead in some rouge Death Eater attack, most likely. Yes, Astoria thought glancing down at herself, because there was no doubt she would be useful in protecting anyone from anything. Hell, knowing her she'd probably end up selling them out and- her box.

Astoria groaned. Of _course _she'd left the bloody box on the bar counter. And she'd skipped out on a customer. The brunette felt like banging her head against the wall. Business was shaky as it was, she couldn't be known as a flake too! There goes any hope of ever getting out of this God forsaken country, she thought viciously, if had hadn't been for damn Malfoy-

Again, the brunette stopped. Draco. She felt unease pulse through her. He was a prime example of why- well, why she couldn't do a damn thing about his…condition. Shut up. Don't care. The brunette had to keep her head down. She couldn't risk going back to Hogsmeade to get her supplies, and it would be a blessing (though a rather lame one) if she could even make it back next week. She would indeed have to be careful not to call any attention to herself for the next month or so. Above all, Astoria Greengrass needed to stay invisible.

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><p><strong>AN **Well, thank you for reading! I started school today (yay -_-) and decided it was about time to get this up and running as well. This is completely DH compliant, because that's the way I like it. I hope you all enjoyed, more chapters to come soon! Please, please, make my day and leave a review!


	2. Of Revelations and Rodents

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

First of all, a special shout out/ thanks to **Off Dreaming **for encouraging me to continue this story. I like your pen name as well:) Also, she has an amazing Draco/Astoria fic that you all absolutely must check out if you haven't had the chance.

That's all for up here! Continue on:)

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><p>"Funny," was the first thing Astoria heard after she had flung open the door to her last class of the day which, for reasons she didn't care to get into, she happened to be a few minutes late for, "you would think Head Girl would have a little more consideration for school policies."<p>

One thing, or the only thing, really, Astoria found amusing about her school career was that, out of lack of any other Slytherin girls her age, Astoria was Head Girl. When her school letter had come, thick and heavy, the brunette had already been able to tell what was inside, and had burst out laughing. She could only imagine how low they must have been scraping the barrel to choose _her _for the oh-so-esteemed position. I mean, come on! Her marks were mediocre at best, she wasn't in any clubs or anything, and Slughorn had always passed her without a second glance, so it wasn't like she had him to vouch for her. For Astoria to be picked, attendance must have reached an all-time low for Slytherin house. It was for no reason other than her own personal amusement that she pinned the badge to the front of her robes each day. That, and she knew how much it must aggravate the hell out of anyone who actually gave a shit about the position.

Astoria frowned, rubbing her elbow from where she'd tripped, busting her ass in hopes of getting to class on time. It wasn't that she cared about being _punctual_, or whatever. She just couldn't call attention to herself. But, as she looked up at her new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had done just that, he didn't seem stern, or even annoyed. If fact, he looked amused.

And then it hit her. He was not, as she had first suspected, chiding her for being late, but referring to catching her down at Hogsmeade a good forty-eight previous hours. Astoria felt the corners of her mouth deepen. She didn't reply, refusing to be apart of his little game, and glanced around the room in search of her seat. Unfortunately for the brunette, her usual spot on the far right corner was already occupied. In fact, the only available desk-

"Right here," Vaisey grinned, slapping the front center desk. Involuntarily, Astoria felt her lip curl. In her opinion, that was, without a doubt, the worst possible seat for her to have been stuck with. It was inevitable to get called on during class, impossible to cheat (if such a situation proved to be necessary) and there was no way she'd be able to sleep through the class like she did a good few of her others. "Come on," he smiled, his eyes crinkling as he did so, "I promise not to pick on you too much."

Astoria gave him a long, flat glare, but dropped her bag on the ground and slunk into her new seat. She wondered if he was purposely getting under her skin. She squinted her eyes at him in study as he walked over to his blackboard. It was definitely possible.

"Like I was saying," Vaisey said, stopping and turning to the class, "as sorry as I was to hear of Professor Hinkle's tragic case of, what was it? Scrofungulus?"

"Dragon Pox," corrected Orla Quirke from the seat next to Astoria.

"Right, right. Dragon… I really hope they disinfected my office," he mused. A few students, such as Orla, laughed politely. Others, or maybe it was just Astoria, rolled their eyes at his obvious, pathetic attempt at humor. Vaisey gave Orla a quick smile before continuing, "Anyway, I am very pleased to be here and hope to be a just as good, or preferably, better professor than the, what, seven other professors you've had in this subject? Yeah, seven, that should be- _anyways- _"

He was nervous. It was true, what old veteran professors like Flitwick said. Students, especially Slytherins, could smell fear. And this guy was positively reeking.

Maybe if Astoria had been born a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff she would have offered him a reassuring smile, after all, he had helped her that evening in the Hog's Head, but she was a Slytherin, and therefore only stared at the man with the expected haughty look of contempt. Woo. What a thrill.

The professor tapped the blackboard with his wand. A course syllabus sprang up in an untidy scrawl that _screamed _guy. He was so obviously new at this. "What I've noticed over the years is that most of my professors were always very, partial, I suppose you could say, towards one particular field of the dark arts. What I'm trying to do is round everything out a bit while tossing in my own personal flare." Astoria glanced up from the mindless doodling she'd begun to raise an eyebrow at the phrase, _personal flare_, and then continued on drawing. Not that she was particularly good, but it was a way to pass the time.

"Dark Arts history?" Hermione Granger asked from the seat behind Astoria, who had no doubt already copied down the syllabus word for word and had it memorized. In Japanese, or something as equally as ridiculous, just to make it all the more difficult. That was another rather annoying thing the whole let's-pull-all-our-kids-from-school stunt had caused. She wasn't sure about the younger students, but all seventh years had classes with all four houses, despite the subject.

"Yes," Vaisey nodded. "I would take it you're already familiar with _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, Miss Granger?"

"Why- yes, actually, I am," Hermione replied, sounding quite pleased.

"Right, and don't get me wrong, that's a beautifully crafted book, a great source of information- sort of." He paused, and, for God knows why, his brown eyes settled on Astoria. "You would be surprised how terribly biased everyday references can be."

"I'm sorry?" The bushy-haired girl asked. For the first time that day, Astoria had set down her quill and was meeting her professor's gaze.

"Oh yes," Vaisey replied, his tone more solemn than it had been the entire class. "In fact, you may come to find that there are some very unusual heroes in our world, ones not always chosen to be written about in books. For instance, Harold B. Whinecraft was a three-time convicted Muggle killer and creator of the popular hex-"

Slowly, Astoria picked her quill back up. Vaisey had shifted his gaze away from her, but the fact that his mind had, even if it was momentarily, jumped to her, when discussing heroics, well, he was going to be sorely disappointed. She was no Neville Longbottom. There was no stunning display of personal growth in store for her future. He needed a serious reality check if for some unknown reason he was expecting her, so enthralled by his lessons, to start looking out for anyone in this world beside herself. And after that, Astoria stopped paying attention to the lesson- if you could call it that- completely.

* * *

><p>The girl gathered her stuff quickly when the bell rang, hoping to get out with the rest of the rush. She let her eyes wonder to where Orla was talking to the professor with animation. She was one of those people Astoria knew she would never quite understand. How could one person be so damn happy all the time? Astoria remembered passing by her desk after getting a History of Magic exam back, one that Orla had completely failed, but she'd just been humming away as if her paper weren't completely butchered with red ink.<p>

Head down, Astoria tried to weave her way through the thicket of students. Her eyes traveled to Vaisey, hoping he wasn't trying to scout her out. Not that he should have any particular interest in her. It was just that for some odd reason that kind of gave her the creeps, he did.

But, luckily, his head was turned away from the girl. Astoria felt her shoulders relax. She was about to walk through the doorway, however, when he turned to her, his expression quite blank, without the usual happy crinkles of a smile, and the brunette felt herself freeze, her shoulders tensing all over again.

Feeling dread begin to pulse through her, she shifted to the wall, watching Vaisey, sure there was some unpleasant emotion shining through her eyes, because now the professor was staring at her, frowning slightly.

"You went to school here, didn't you?" she asked. It was a lame approach, but the only one Astoria could manage.

_Gently, Astoria climbed on top of the dark-skinned boy lying next to her, thick locks of brown hair falling like curtains beside her face in perfect waves that, admittedly, had taken the girl hours to perfect. The boy beneath her, unfortunately, was still fully clothed while Astoria, on the other hand, was not. _

"Of course," Vaisey replied slowly, his frown deepening as he did so. "I graduated about three or four years ahead of yourself." Astoria flinched. This was not what she wanted to hear.

_The Flint's annual holiday party was taking place and, after ignoring her for the first hour and a half, Astoria had caught ahold of her beau in the hallway, tugged playfully at his arm, leading him to the nearest bedchamber. He'd acted disinterested, but that was just how he was. He liked to toy with people's minds, especially hers. She hadn't been worried in the slightest. By nature, he was arrogant and moody, Astoria was used to dealing with his constant swinging emotions. And, until now it seemed, she'd always had a way of getting him to snap out of it. _

"Is there a problem, Miss Greengrass?" She had yet to reply.

_Blaise Zabini's brown eyes floated lazily over her, barely stopping to admire the girl's perfectly filled silky black bra or even the skimpy emerald lace panties just barely covering her up. "Those can't be comfortable," he told the girl, his voice flat. Bored, even. He shifted to the side, knocking the girl off of him and onto her side. _

"You," Astoria struggled to find the right words, "you knew Blaise, didn't you?"

_Astoria stared blankly at the boy, trying to push down her frustration. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded, pulling herself up to her knees. Her amber eyes watched the boy with a sharp focus that may intimidate some, but Blaise, completely unaffected, pulled a cigarette out of the carton lying on the bedside table, lit it with the tip of his wand, and inhaled deeply, seeming to relish the tobacco five times more than the naked girl next to him. "Is it someone else?" she persisted, eyes never once leaving his handsomely carved face. _

_Finally, Blaise turned to her, a slight frown on his full lips. "Pray tell, love, when was there _not_ someone else?" _

_Feeling a prick of annoyance, Astoria slid her legs down and rested her back against the bedframe. It was no secret that she wasn't the only witch who enjoyed the boy's company, but she wasn't _like_ the others. That, the brunette had never doubted. Again, she let her eyes study him, the crinkle between his brow and slight scowl on his lips. She'd dealt with Blaise in a bad mood before, but never, not once, had he refused her like this. _

"_Face it, Castlemaine, your reign as queen of the court is coming to an end," for the first time that night he turned to face her, his dark, slanting eyes cool, yet solemn, "perhaps it's time for you to move on while you can still retain a morsel of pride." _

Vaisey, for the first time since Astoria had met him, seemed perplexed at her behavior. "Yes," he said slowly, eyeing Astoria with a look that almost bordered suspicion. "I know, well, _knew_, him, I guess."

_A joke, the girl told herself fiercely, it must be a joke. She was his favorite, he'd said it himself many times, and she knew he hadn't been lying! He wouldn't- _couldn't_ simply tire of her like he did the rest. By God, she wasn't like them! _

"_You love me," Astoria said slowly. "I know you do, you can't tell me otherwise-" _

_Brow scrunching up in confusion, he asked, "When did I ever say that?" _

_The brown-eyed girl sat, completely stunned. This wasn't right. Just yesterday he'd been all over her. God, yesterday he'd told her- well, he told her plenty of things, none of which pointed her in the direction of this! _

"_Don't get me wrong," he drawled, "I'm quite fond of you. But- love? Don't be naive, pet. It doesn't exist, and if it did, do you really think I'd be letting you run your dignity into the ground by letting you flounce around as my little whore?" _

_Astoria felt her jaw drop slightly. "You know what they call you, right?" he asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, "A first year's-" _

"_Charm exam," Astoria finished curtly. "I'm well aware, thank-you." She didn't understand. Yes, others thought her an easy little fifth year and they could look down on her for that all they wanted, but she'd never cared, because she had Blaise Zabini. No other girl in the school could claim that, or at least, not as confidently as she could. _

"Me too," Astoria replied awkwardly. She shifted her weight to her other foot, not breaking eye contact with Vaisey.

_There was another long pause between the two until, finally, Astoria said, her voice starting to shake, "You can't do this to me. I can't- they'll- they'll tear me apart if I don't have you." And it was true. Completely pathetic, but true. Without Blaise, she wasn't invited into the older student's parties, therefore giving her a reason to blow of everyone in her own year. The others wouldn't have to force or fake respect for her if she didn't have Blaise, quite possibly the new Prince of Slytherin, to protect and back her up. _

"_You shouldn't have put all of your eggs in one basket," Zabini told her sternly. He sat up and faced her full on, taking her head in his hands, "I don't want you to think of me any more, alright? Look at me," Astoria, who had been struggling to escape his grasp, stopped her squirming and met the eye's of the boy before her, _

"_Don't fall for it," was all he said, but she'd never heard the boy so somber, so mournful, even, in the two years she'd been rather familiarly acquainted with him. _

_Astoria shook her head, "I don't know what you-" _

_But before he could have time to explain, if he would have, the door to the bedroom flew open. Before them now stood a tall blonde boy the brunette vaguely recognized from the year before, behind him a petite girl with short red hair, a Ravenclaw maybe a year ahead of herself. Astoria felt her face heat. Usually, Blaise took almost extreme precautions to make sure things such as this never happened. Now, he just didn't care. The two boys stared at each other for a long while until at last, the blonde broke the silence. "I see this room's taken," he said, his voice cold. _

"Look," Vaisey started, taking a step forward, "Blaise was-"

_Blaise stared at him, silent for a long while, before drawling, "Actually, Vaisey, we were just finishing up." He grabbed his wand from beside it and summoned Astoria's crumpled grey dress robes. "I'd put these on if I were you," he told her coolly, and with that, slid up from the bed with ease and strode out of the room, purposely brushing shoulders with the blonde as he did so. _

_The two at the door stared at Astoria for a moment, her dress robes clutched over her chest, face burning red with humiliation. "Come on," the red head said quietly, placing a hand delicately on the boy's shoulders. _

_The blonde, however, ignored her. "Don't deal with his shit," he spat, glaring at Astoria full on, "Don't you dare give that bastard the satisfaction of-" _

_But the redhead gave him a sharp jerk and a glare that silenced him. The two stared at each other for a moment, seemingly understanding each other though saying nothing, until finally, the blonde turned, slammed the door shut, and left Astoria alone. _

"Is," the brunette cut in sharply. Much to her horror, the professor's face softened. "For now," she added, just to take that look off of his face, though the brunette felt her stop drop as the word's escaped her lips. The two started at each other. She didn't know if she remembered walking I on her and Blaise, and she didn't want to ask. He was probably drunk anyway, just like everyone else that night.

"Professor?" she finally asked, "How did you and Blaise-?"

The two stared at each other for a long time. "Everyone knew Blaise," Vaisey said finally, his voice flat. "He had a certain… charisma that made it hard for anyone to ignore him."

He _has _charisma, Astoria wanted to correct. She wanted to tell him to stop. She could talk about Blaise like he had no chance, that he was a lost cause, but this guy? No. Blaise wasn't gone. Blaise wasn't dead. Just a vegetable.

But instead, Astoria merely nodded.

Once in the corridor, hardly thinking of what she was doing, Astoria pulled out the last letter she'd received from the boy, her fingers running over the soft parchment, worn thin from being so constantly handled. Though the girl knew its words by heart, she stopped, leaned against the wall and let her eyes float over the familiar, small, clean handwriting of Blaise Zabini.

_A, _

_I'm doing fine, so stop your bloody worrying. And don't deny it, because I know you better than you know yourself. Always have, always will. Keep out of trouble, and for God's sake, Astoria, stop whoring around with Nott. _

_Z. _

Short, cool, and yet so essentially Blaise. The brunette remembered being torn between laughter and tears the first time or few she'd read the letter. It had been over a month since he'd replied to yet another one of her humiliatingly heartfelt notes, demanding to know his whereabouts and what the hell he was doing with himself. Se felt like a completely different person than then. It was crazy, what a year or two could do to someone.

And, because it was Blaise, and because even after everything she trusted him more than any other, she'd followed his advice. Not the part about her not worrying about him, to that day Astoria had found that to be an impossible task, but she had at least closed up her legs a bit, something that had proved to be quite an improvement really.

"Wait- Astoria!" Again? The brunette thought with a scowl. She turned around, one eyebrow raised.

"I wanted to talk to you- the other night-"

"It won't happen again," Astoria lied, her voice cold.

"No, that's not- well, actually yes, you shouldn't be sneaking out of the castle, but no. That's not what I want to talk about." He stopped, as if waiting for Astoria to say something, and when she didn't, continued, "Your friend- Malfoy-"

"He's not my friend," Astoria sneered, feeling her heart speed up. "I hardly know him. I hardly knew him at school. He-I-"

"Okay, okay!" Vaisey said quickly, raising his hands in front of his chest. "I just wanted to know if you'd-"

"No," Astoria cut in sharply, not caring what he was going to say, "I haven't." And without another word, the girl turned on her heel, and, thankfully, the professor didn't try to stop her.

* * *

><p>Astoria sat in the back of the great hall, ignoring Stewart Ackerley, a Ravenclaw boy one year younger than she, as he tried to catch her eye from the other end of the hall. Of course, ignoring Stewart was completely normal for the girl, but that was usually just because he was an insufferable little prat, not because she actually had something to hide.<p>

One thing Astoria had learned was that during these candlelight memorials, she should always keep her eyes planted firmly on the ground. In a way, she got it. On the birthday of anyone who had died in the Battle, everyone gathered in the Great Hall an hour after dinner, the candles were lit and all other lights off, a few words were said about whatever dead person's birthday it happened to be, and then Astoria finally got to go to sleep. It was that she didn't respect them, she did, but, to be completely honest, the services were pretty damn awkward. Without exception, someone was always bawling. Lot's cried of course, but at least one person completely breaks down. It never failed to make Astoria cringe.

Not to mention, if she takes her eyes off of her shoes that is, Astoria never failed to catch one person, usually a younger student, shooting her a dirty look. You know, 'cause she was a Death Eater and all. And because she had obviously wanted all of those people, including some of her own family members, to be dead. But whatever. Those little shits could think whatever they wanted. The brunette knew letting any of it get under her skin was completely useless.

Astoria felt something hit the side of her face. Scowling slightly, she turned to where the parchment had come from, though, of course, she had her suspicion. And as she had suspected, Stewart was almost frantically waving his arms, a half empty roll of parchment on his laps. She shot the boy a glare and turned back around. What Stewart didn't understand was that in post-war society, she absolutely could not risk being less than perfect during these. Staring at the ground could be mourning. That, she could get away with. Passing notes with this kid, she could not.

Luckily, for the rest of the service Stewart calmed down. It may have been due to the kid beside him giving the boy a sharp elbow to the side, but, whatever the reason, Astoria was able to avoid him for at least a little longer.

"Where's my cut?" There was no Hello, Astoria, no Wasn't that a great weep-fest, no pleasantries. So the kid was finally catching on.

"Nonexistent," the brown-eyed girl replied shortly. Stewart was one of those people Astoria should probably feel sorry for. He was scrawny, with flaming acne covering his thin face, greasy brown hair clinging to his forehead, and it was so obvious that all he wanted was acceptance of any form. Painfully obvious. Embarrassingly, painfully obvious. It only made him aggravate Astoria even more than he already did.

In this case, he was trying to act the hard ass Astoria had always rebuked him for not being. If it wasn't for his show in the Great Hall, it might have even worked.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He tried to keep his eyes narrowed, but Astoria could since the slight fear that flashed over his light blue eyes. If, as she'd threatened multiple times to do, Astoria had given him the boot, he would completely be alone.

"I mean," the brunette said, dodging a passing second year, "that there was no profit. Hence, no cut."

"But- how? Did you get-"

"Of course not!" Astoria spat. A lie, of course, but she would never admit being caught to Stewart. "The shit was stolen." Another lie, but who was bothering to keep track of those anymore? She didn't want to talk about, less because of the money, and more because of the series of awkward events that had happened that night.

"Stolen? But- I spent hours on- how could-"

"Don't worry about it," Astoria replied shortly.

Stewart was now staring at her, his mouth hanging. "Don't worry about it? Do you know how much homework I blew off so I could make all of that-"

"You didn't make all of it," Astoria mumbled, though he had indeed made most of it. "Besides," she continued, raising her voice slightly, "it's not like you would have done the bloody course work anyway."

Stewart slowed to a stop. "Yeah…" he said finally, "'Pose you're right. What do we do now then? There's no way I would have time to make another batch of-"

"Look," Astoria sighed, "we'll deal with this later, okay? I'm tired."

"You're _always _tired," Stewart moaned. Astoria shrugged. Actually, he was right. Which was pretty weird considering how many hours of her free time she spent sleeping.

"We'll start up again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Stewart whined. "But-" here the boy paused, reached down to the ground, "Here!" He pulled himself up, a grin stretched across his face. "We can use this!" In his hands was a white ferret, obviously struggling to escape his grasp. For the second time that day, Astoria felt her lip curl. She hated rodents.

"What the fuck would I want that for?" She demanded, watching with repulsion as it's scrawny body tried helplessly to free itself.

"You were interested in selling some Gregory's Unctuous Unction, weren't you?" Stewart asked, his eyes starting to brighten slightly. "If I can steal some hairs off of a unicorn tail from Slughorn, all we're missing in the left paw of a ferret."

One thing that had always set the two apart was that deep down Stewart was a total animal softie. In fact, Astoria had tried many a times to convince him to truly test his potion brewing skills with this particular drought, but at harming an innocent animal, Stewart had always put his foot down.

Astoria stared at the animal wiggling relentlessly in the hands of her partner. "Some kid is going to start bitching about the loss of their pet," Astoria told him.

"Are you kidding me? Look at this thing. The owner's probably some muggle born who forgot about it as soon as they realized they could buy a pet that could actually do stuff."

He had a point. "You can see it's little ferret ribs," Astoria mused.

"And fleas," Stewart added eagerly.

The brunette frowned and shrugged. If she could ever muster up the guts to go back to Hogsmeade (a task she should really get working on), a vat of GUU could go for some serious goal. And, for once, Stewart seemed interested in taking the time, and underdoing the necessary steps, to actually make a batch. Obviously, he was afraid Astoria was about to back out on him. And who knew? One day she just might.

Just then, the ferret let out a particularly loud squeal and sunk its sharp little teeth into Stewart's fingers.

"What the-" Stewart jumped back, rubbing the spot on his hand where the ferret had bitten him. "That little shit!"

The two both stared at the ferret, which had apparently used all of its energy on his attack, as he was now lying on the stone floor, no longer squirming.

"Fuck," Stewart muttered. He crouched down beside the ferret and squinted. "Is it dead?" he asked, turning his now large, puppy eyes to Astoria, who stood above him, arms folded and a scowl on her face.

"What does it matter? We were going to kill it anyway, right?" Astoria reminded him, not being able to keep the slightly mocking tone out of her voice.

Clearly ignoring her, Stewart said, "We should take it down to that Hagrid guy. He'd know how to help him."

"Are you kidding me?" Astoria cried. "You're the one who was just talking about chopping off it's paw for profit!"

Stewart stroked the ferret with his index finger. "I think it may be still breathing…"

"Whatever," Astoria growled. "You're on your own."

"No! You have to come with-"

"Nope," Astoria interrupted, "not happening."

"Please? I swear to God, I'll never ask you for anything ever again for as long as I-"

"Mr. Ackerley!" Astoria felt herself smirk as Professor Sprout came marching down the corridor, a pot filled with dirt in her hands. "Someone told me they personally witnessed you spraying _my _Chinese Chomping Cabbage with Doxycide! Do you know how long I've spent raising this?" She demanded, waving the empty pot. "Never in my life have I been happier to be retiring!"

Stewart glanced back at Astoria for help, but she only watched on, mildly amused. Even if she did try and do something, she knew it would only make things worse. Pulling Stewart by his forearm, Sprout led the boy away from Astoria, but not before she caught him mouth to her, "Get the ferret!" which was still lying motionless on the ground in front of her.

Astoria stared blankly at the rodent. "Ew," she breathed, not in the least wanting to touch it, let alone do whatever it was Stewart expected of her. Astoria's eyes lingered on the animal before turning and walking away. Malnourished ferret? Not her problem.

* * *

><p>AN Thank you for reading! I hope you guys will leave me a review, it would honestly make my day!


	3. A Shady Past and A Hazy Future

Chapter Three: A Hazy Past and a Shady Future

As it turned out, Stewart cared a lot more about that ferret than Astoria would have thought. She now knew for a fact that the boy never actually planned on cutting off its paw to use in the potion, as two days later he was still refusing to speak to her for "abandoning" it. For all Stewart knew its real owner could have come along a few minutes later, rejoicing the finding of their long lost pet.

And though Stewart not speaking to her definitely didn't upset Astoria in the slightest, it did get a bit annoying when she actually needed information out of him. For this reason and this reason only, was Astoria, once again, waiting at the bar of the Hog's Head, drumming her fingers impatiently on the counter. What was it with these people and _never _being on time?

Every so often, the brunette would let her eyes sweep the room and, as each time yielded the same result, Astoria would feel a wave of relief crash through her. So far, there was no sign of a pale, skinny, blonde boy that would make this trip even more difficult than it needed to be. Nor any tan, over-eager blondes to give her a detention for sneaking out, for that matter.

Astoria desperately hoped it would stay that way.

"Greengrass?"

Astoria smirked. "About time," she muttered, knowing it would throw the man off. He was one of her more timid customers, easily pushed around. The girl had never actually taken the time to learn his name.

The man didn't reply, but shifted nervously on his stool. Astoria knew she wasn't particularly intimidating, which led her to wonder what exactly made some of her customers so jumpy. If anything, she should be afraid of them. A single one of them turned on her and she was toast. Burnt black toast.

She knew what he'd come to buy. It was his usual six-ounce of gillyweed. Dry it out, light that shit up, and you were baked for at least a couple of hours. But, unfortunately for the general public, it was hard to come by. Very hard and, due to the effect mentioned above, the ministry heavily monitored any gillyweed growth and sell.

How Harry Potter had gotten ahold of some during his fourth year was beyond Astoria.

The man, with perspiration dotting at his forehead, slid over a small bag of gold. He watched as Astoria counted out each coin, though she knew he wasn't one to try and cut her short. It was standard procedure, and besides. It made her look almost kind of official.

Nodding her head once, Astoria handed the man his paper bag of gillyweed, and watched with slight amusement as he instantly apparated off. With a sight of relief, Astoria stood up, stretching her arms above her head as she did so. As for outsiders, that was her last for the night. Of course, there would still be a line of students waiting for her once she got back up to the castle, but in all honesty, she had no problem making them wait.

That was the one thing Astoria had gained from post-war Hogwarts. The castle, eager to help those attempting to restore it, was repairing segments on its own. Most notably (to Astoria, at least) was the room behind the mirror. Once completely caved in, the room had been returned to its former glory, black marble floors and all. The brunette, who had luckily been the first to stumble upon this chamber (or rather, the first to act on it) now had claimed the room for herself, and the handful she either did business with, or dealt out her stock to. The professors, luckily, had never learned of the room behind the mirror, let alone the fact that, for the first time in years, it was completely usable. Not to mention the convenient passage way that led straight to Hogsmeade. You did have to be careful, of course. The exit from the passage was set to look like a large rock, and to be seen climbing out of a boulder was a bit suspicious.

Astoria walked out of the pub, wincing slightly as the cool October air hit her face. She didn't much like fall, or spring for that matter. Winter was cold and summer was hot. They were constants. The wishy-washy temperature of the other two seasons had always thrown the brunette off. She paused, her eyes scanning the street. It was oddly crowded, but she supposed that was to be expected two nights before Halloween. Astoria sighed, annoyance shooting through her. There was only one way to get Stewart to stop acting like such a little bitch and to get back to work. Reluctantly, the girl trudged down the street head ducked against the wind, her boots crunching the fallen leaves beneath her feet.

Astoria rolled her eyes at the annoyingly chipper jack-o-lanterns that lined the road. Wasn't this holiday supposed to be scary, or whatever. Why were all the damn decorations always _smiling? _It was like an orange bloody Christmas for Christ's sake.

The brunette pushed open the door of Gladrags Wizardwear, a bell up ahead tinkling as she did so. She groaned slightly at the line wrapped around the checkout counter, but continued on anyway. Astoria surveyed the rack before her. She couldn't afford much, unless she wanted to- the girl shook her head. She'd been through a thieving period. No, Astoria had to hold at least a little more dignity than that!

Or not. The girl stood in line, the pocket of her cloak heavy with galleons that did not rightfully belong to her. Okay, so usually she considered theft beneath her, but if Stewart didn't start back up brewing the difficult, mostly banned potions he was admittedly brilliant at, Astoria was screwed. And there was no way she'd be able to afford the dragon-skin jacket in her hands otherwise. She stood, withholding the urge to tap her foot anxiously. She was definitely ready to leave.

"That'll be six galleons, ten sickles, and eight knuts," said the squat salesman working the checkout. He had small, beady eyes mostly hidden behind an unfortunately thick unibrow. Astoria vaguely wondered if he always looked that cross or if he was just as aggravated by the crowd as she was.

A faint mumbling could be heard from the front of the line. Astoria scowled. Whoever it was needed to hurry it up. There were a good six people behind him, Astoria being the fifth.

"Well four knuts won' cut it now, will it?" sneered the man. Astoria smirked. She couldn't help but appreciate someone who knew how to run a business proper- oh, shit.

Because of course, not running into him would be too good to be true. Astoria watched, her face heating in embarrassment for him, as Draco asked the lady behind him if she had any spare knuts he could possibly borrow. His face was flushed darker even than the night she'd seen him at the pub. In fact, the shade could practically be called fuchsia.

Much to both Draco and Astoria's mortification, the lady raised her upper lip in disgust. "Sorry," she said coolly, "but I'm afraid I do not. Perhaps you should ask my brother- Luke Kalgan. You and your family are quite familiar with him, aren't you?" she demanded, her already high voice jumping an octave. Draco simply stood there, a set of dingy, cheap robes clutched in between his pale hands. He opened his mouth and shut it, obviously not knowing what to do. Astoria looked wildly around the room. Surely someone- anyone- would come to the boy's rescue? But the others were either jeering at the blonde, or looking square at the floor, pretending not to have noticed the whole debacle.

_Don't do it, Astoria. Whatever you do, do not- _

"Here," the brunette said, stepping forwards, much against her better judgment. "I do." She handed Draco a handful of knuts, probably more than he needed, she hadn't really checked, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eye. He mumbled something- or maybe attempted to, Astoria couldn't be sure, before handing the man all of the change in his palm and quickly exiting the shop, head down.

"That," a small women behind her whispered, "was quite brave of you, dear." Astoria didn't know how to reply. She wasn't brave. Just effing stupid.

* * *

><p>The next morning, for the first time in months, a school barn owl landed in front of Astoria just as she was taking a particularly large bite of jam-covered toast. She looked around for a second to make sure the owl hadn't somehow gotten confused, and then untied the letter from its leg. One eyebrow already raised in speculation, the brunette tore open the letter.<p>

_Dearest Astoria, _

The overly ornate writing led to one person and one person only. Astoria heard herself sigh. Daphne.

_I do hope you're doing well at school. The family is counting on you to keep up both our name and image, so don't go making trouble as I know you're prone to doing. Mother and Father are well. Father is obviously very busy re-raising the company, which, if you haven't heard from him much this term, is most likely the reason why. He is extremely busy, I'm sure you're old enough by now to understand. _

_Reynolds and I are doing wonderful. Him and father get along splendidly, as you would most likely suspect. They are, after all, practically the same person, intelligent, motivated, and with excellent bloodlines to top it all off. Please be sure not to spread this, Astoria, as we plan on hosting a small get-together to make the formal announcement, but as you are my sister, and you wouldn't be able to attend due to school, I feel I must tell you- him and I are to be married soon! Mother and I are already working on wedding plans. Won't it be wonderful after all of this war? It seems, thanks to us, things will finally be getting back to normal. _

_Love always, _

_Daphne _

_P.S Also, as I know you're subject to overindulging, do try your best to watch your figure. I already have chosen Pansy and Tracey as bridesmaids, and I do want you all to look uniform. _

Astoria put the letter down, not sure whether to laugh or- or… Astoria picked up the letter again. Cry? The brunette shook her head and continued eating her breakfast. With a smirk, she piled on even more jelly, and helped herself to another handful of bacon. Why? Fuck Daphne, that's why.

Of course, all siblings must have some level of rivalry between them, but Astoria was pretty sure the relationship between her and Daphne was almost unique. You see, for as long as Astoria could remember, Daphne had done her best to outshine and put-down her sister, and also for as long as the girl could remember, Astoria had never given a shit. In fact, she'd even found it quite amusing at times.

It wasn't as if Daphne even needed to try and out-do her little sister. She could do it naturally, no problem. But the lengths the blonde had gone to always make sure she was the star of the two had always fascinated Astoria. In this letter alone, there were several little hints that had made Astoria suppress a giggle. For one, there was the fact that she, in her own way, had pointed out how easily the family company was now in her hands by marrying Reynolds, who, without a doubt, had been hand-chosen by her parents. Astoria had met the guy before, and if arrogance and aftershave came in human form, it would be him. Besides, Astoria had never once shown any interest in inheriting her father's business, something that, for some reason, was completely lost on her sister. And, of course, there was the mention of Astoria's average body. The girl knew she wasn't overweight, but she wasn't a stick either. Something her sister never hesitated in reminding her.

She heard a cry of joy- almost like triumph, from across the Great Hall. Astoria smirked. She didn't have to turn around to know whom the sound had admitted from. Looks like her package to Stewart had been delivered right on time. The girl, however, didn't have much time to revel in her success (the boy's shout obviously determined he was back in business) as her table was approached by a guest, something that surely hadn't happened in years. Astoria glanced up from her food, only to be met with her DADA professor's large frame. She let out a sigh. "Can I help you?" the brunette asked flatly, setting down the spoon she'd just picked up. If her grits went cold because of him, she'd never forgive the guy.

"I think this is yours." He pulled a familiar-looking white ferret from his pocket. Astoria stared. "So- do you _always _carry rodents around in your robe pockets? Just curiosity."

The man grinned slightly, but otherwise ignored her comment. "Like I said, I think he belongs to you."

Astoria glanced over her shoulder to make sure Stewart wasn't watching. "That flea-bag has never, and will never, be connected to be in the slightest. I don't like little furry things. Not mice, not ferrets- hell, not _bunnies_, okay? I do not like rodents." She paused to shove a spoonful of grits into her mouth, "'Sides," she continued, her mouth still half-full. "How do you know it's a boy? Could be a girl- unless you're some expert on ferret anatomy, which case I suggest you transfer to Care of Magical Creatures immediate-"

"Trust me," Vaisey cut in, oddly serious. "It's a boy."

"Okay," Astoria replied slowly. She swallowed the grits in one large gulp. "Well, it's still not mine. Now if you wouldn't mind, I was actually in the middle of a letter from my sister-"

"Astoria," the man actually had the nerve to _sit down beside her _(she was definitely receiving on looks now), "you will," he said, holding out the animal in his hand, "take care of him."

The brunette only stared. "I honestly can't tell- are you joking or just plain mental?" She glanced around the room, hating how many people were watching. This was not helping her lie low. "No," Astoria said suddenly, as Vaisey had yet to reply. "And you better go now before people get it in their mind's that you're hot for a student."

To her surprise, Vaisey actually grinned at this. "Tempting- but not my style. However, I do refuse to leave until you take this adorable little animal."

"Fine," the girl replied, pushing her plate forwards. "Then I'll go." She was about to stand up when he said, "I'll follow."

Astoria stared at him, her face contorted into confusion and repulsion. "God. If it matters so much I'll take the bloody thing." She'd never sworn to a professor, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You won't regret it," he told her seriously, and then bounded out of the Great Hall.

Astoria looked down and cringed at the ferret withering in her hands and. Rodents. Ew.

* * *

><p>Later that night Astoria sat in her abandoned dorm, watching her new pet. She'd expected him to scuttle into the corner when she'd let him loose on the floor (and was half hoping he'd run out of the door, and therefore out of her life), but instead he just sat, watching her. "What?" Astoria demanded. The ferret simply blinked. "You're weird, you know that?" The ferret simply stared. "Look, I'm not happy about this whole ordeal either, okay? If it were up to me you'd be back in that entrance hall where you-"<p>

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Astoria blinked. She looked up, only to find a small boy, probably a first year. "How the hell did you get up here?" she demanded. In her years, she'd tried numerous times to bring boys into her dorm. Never once had it worked.

The boy stared at her as if she was crazy. "I walked," he said slowly. He was small, even for an eleven-year-old, with long dark hair and odd, round, almost violet eyes. "Can I pet him?" he asked with an eager grin. Without waiting for an answer, the boy walked through the doorway and into her dorm. _Into her dorm! _Astoria watched, completely bewildered. She wondered when the last time a male had set foot in her dormitory was, or if he was the first.

The raven-haired child crouched down and stroked the ferret with his index finger. "What's his name?" he asked, in almost a singsong voice.

"Uh. He doesn't have one. Look, you probably shouldn't be up-"

"Dexter," the boy interrupted, "I think he looks like a Dexter."

Astoria paused. "Okay. Fine. His name's Dexter, now look, boys aren't supposed to be up here, so-"

"Where's his bed? What do you feed him?"

The brunette was definitely getting annoyed. "I just got him, alright? I don't have all of that shi- uh, stuff, yet."

"Here" The boy stood up and disappeared into her bathroom. Astoria stared after him, not sure of what to do. She had to get to work soon. He emerged a few seconds later with a towel. "We can make this comfy for him." He knelt back on the ground beside the ferret- Dexter, she supposed, and fashioned into a sort of make shift bed. He turned to Dexter, picked him up, and placed him on the towel. She was sure he would dart off, but instead, the blonde animal curled into a tight circle. The violet-eyed boy glanced up at Astoria with a large smile, "He likes it!"

Astoria didn't know what to say, or even how to react. Who _was _this kid?

* * *

><p>"Thanks for letting me see your ferret. Can I come back and visit him soon?" The brunette stared blankly at him for a moment before coming, still in slight shock, offering a dumb nod. The boy smiled again. "Awesome! Thanks, Astoria!" The girl blinked. How the hell did he- well, she was Head Girl. She supposed that was how he knew her name. The brunette shook her head. Still, the whole encounter was kind of creepy.<p>

"Next."

A group of tightly knit fourth years stepped forward, fidgety and obviously anxious as all first timers were. Astoria resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "Yes?" she asked coolly. That was what she hated most about dealing with new comers. They took _forever_, and always, no matter age or social standing, they always made you take the first step.

For a good twenty seconds, there was no reply until, finally, the clear leader of the group (an uppity blonde girl Astoria had often fantasized about hitting with a nice (insert hex here)) took another small step forward and said, and "We're looking to purchase dried gillyweed and a vat of Penelope's Pound-Shedder." A few of the girls tittered, as did other members of the line.

_Yeah, you and the other twenty here. _Astoria had never understood why girls were so obsessed with weight loss potions. The best ones only worked for 24 hours, making it painfully obvious when one took some, and yet, they were one of Astoria's best sellers."How much?" she asked, her voice flat.

The blonde froze and shot a nervous glance to the girls behind her. It was obvious, queen as she may have been, the girl was out of her element. So much for leadership.

A sigh escaped the brunette's lips. She pulled out a typical 28-gram bag and handed it to the blonde. "Twenty gallons."

The girl's jaw dropped. "Twenty-" but she quickly stopped. Throwing a glare to the girl's around her, as if they were the cause for the unreasonable pricing, she fished the proper amount out of her purse. "This stuff better be good," the blonde muttered, about to walk away, when Stewart called after her. "Take this," he offered flashing a ten-watt smile, "It will make things a lot easier." Instant self-rolling parchment, of course, he always gave it free to girls he thought would be good in the sack.

Astoria scowled at the boy. That was an easy five gallons he'd just lost.

"What?" He grinned as soon as the girls had walked back down the black marble hallway. "Oh come on. You ripped her off a good seven gallons, okay? It's not like we didn't still make a profit."

Lance Ran, a regular, stepped forward and without hardly glancing at him, Astoria handed over his usual two bottles of fire whisky and a small bottle of Billywig venom, he handed over his usual bag of gold.

"Whatever," the brunette yawned, pushing the stool away from the makeshift desk she'd stolen out of an old classroom, "you can take over from here."

Ignoring Stewart's protest, Astoria sauntered across the room and through another marble passage, this one leading to the potion section. The area behind the mirror was really quite large, which, for some reason made Astoria rather uneasy. The larger the square footage, the easier it was to discover. Right?

The brunette sat carefully down onto the cot she stored in the small room, feeling her shoulder blades creak as she did so. She paused to rub the area on her back, her stress spot as she'd come to identify it over the years, and then, feeling a slight sense of relief, pulled out her emerald, glass pipe, a small bag of gillyweed, and let herself toke.


End file.
